


under his thumb

by incantatums



Series: there is an art to murder and love [2]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: (YES there's MORE METAPHORS sorry not sorry), AU, Bottom!Edward, Canon Divergence, Dom!Oswald, M/M, Metaphors, Nygmobblepot, PWP, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sex Toys, Top!Oswald, sort of ?? who knows, these dumbass losers are so dumb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-03-10
Packaged: 2019-03-29 15:38:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incantatums/pseuds/incantatums
Summary: Edward is still staring.It should be unnerving, Oswald supposes, but he has just pressed a button on the remote again and he is fairly sure he can hear a faint buzzing if he really pays attention, so Edward staring is to be expected when he's just spent nearly fourth minutes half listening to the drone of old families having no ties and that the seedy, not-so-underground world needs to take care of them if they must while on the verge of coming since three hours ago.





	under his thumb

**Author's Note:**

> I know this isn't exactly what you were all expecting after last time but I couldn't help it. I'm such a sucker for secret vibrating butt plugs in public areas whatever sue me.
> 
> This is a continuation of my previous short one-shot which I'm slowly developing into a series. You don't have to read the previous one to know what's going on here because right now they're both porn without plot... but if you do you could leave a kudos or a nice review about the other one? Maybe?

Oswald can feel a burn in his lower neck, nestled in his spine, making his whole body straighten up and stiffen as though someone has a string attached to the tip of his spine and is pulling him up. He feels like one of those ventriloquist dolls: not in control of his own body.

Edward is staring at him. He can feel it.

Oswald is also feeling bored. There has been a meeting, of sorts, called in; there has been talk of an old family of Gotham that has moved back in, rumours that they're thinking of taking control like their great grandfathers had many years before. It's a mundane meeting but necessary nonetheless. Gotham may be overrun by corrupt police and highly paid criminals but it's not a goddamn zoo without a true pecking order. Gotham has rules and regulations for taking the throne – you have to work for it, earn it, rather than use a family name that no longer has precedence in the city.

Oswald can hear Edward shifting in his seat one row behind him and two seats to his right.

He knows why Edward is shifting; he has the small, sleek remote in his right hand, curled in his fist as it leans on his understated yet personally glamourous cane that Edward discreetly purchased for him three weeks ago after Oswald pounded him into his desk whilst his minions scurried about right outside Oswald's door.

The cane itself isn't much to look at. Its staff is thin and black, with the tip at the end squared with a nice silver trimming. The handle is silver too, curved with what looks to be like a plain beak but if you're close enough (usually men are only close enough when Oswald is beating their heads into a pulp) you can see small question marks engraved at the head of the beak, three on each side, italicised and a constant reminder to Oswald of what they're doing. Of what Oswald is doing to Edward. Of how Edward whines from the back of his throat, teeth clenched, eyes staring at Oswald and only looking away when he comes and squeezes his eyes shut and tried not to say Oswald's name.

Edward is still staring.

It should be unnerving, Oswald supposes, but he has just pressed a button on the remote again and he is fairly sure he can hear a faint buzzing if he really pays attention, so Edward staring is to be expected when he's just spent nearly fourty minutes half listening to the drone of old families having no ties and that the seedy, not-so-underground world needs to take care of them if they must while on the verge of coming since three hours ago.

So no, it's not unnerving. It's fucking hilarious. The Great Riddler is under Oswald's thumb and he won't do a thing about it because it's right where he wants to be, where he _belongs_.

Oswald smirks, one side of his mouth tilting up ever so slightly, glances back at Edward for two seconds, and receives a nasty look and a baring of teeth and Oswald presses the button again. Edward shoots up straight, jaw clenched shut and hands curled into fists on his knees, still staring.

Tonight Oswald is going to remind him exactly _who_ he belongs to.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought! Constructive criticism helps me become a better writer! (And some mind blowing compliments won't hurt much either?)


End file.
